


Using You (For Pleasure)

by canadianhannah, loutmouth



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drunk Gerard Way, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frerard, Frerbert?, Gerard Hits On People While He's Drunk/High, Gerbert - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Secret Relationship, Vomiting, platonic showering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 23:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadianhannah/pseuds/canadianhannah, https://archiveofourown.org/users/loutmouth/pseuds/loutmouth
Summary: Frank liked Bert – he liked him a lot. The older man was good for lots of things; drugs being one, sex being another. The media seemed so obsessed with Gerard and Bert’s budding friendship that they hardly noticed Frank and The Used singer sneaking off together, pulling each other behind stage doors and into the backs of vans, leaving with messy grins and tousled hair. Sweat and makeup were often smeared across their pale, smug faces, with any number of dubious fluids added to the mix. With some pot occasionally thrown in to the mix, the time-killer was more than welcome on the long stretches of tour they were both on for months at a time, finding solace in the few, peaceful hours they could spend together whenever possible. They weren’t in love or anything like that – at least not with each other.That’s another thing Bert was good for. Distraction.Set in 2004, Frank and Bert have a lot in common - the main thing, being their mutual infatuation for Gerard. Stuck in his own drug haze, the singer never notices the pair, so they find solace in each other's company; but for how long can they live in this charade? Something has to give, and somebody might just get left behind.





	Using You (For Pleasure)

When it rained, it poured, and the last two weeks had been torrential.

Frank liked Bert – he liked him a lot. The older man was good for lots of things; drugs being one, sex being another. The media seemed so obsessed with Gerard and Bert’s budding friendship that they hardly noticed Frank and The Used singer sneaking off together, pulling each other behind stage doors and into the backs of vans, leaving with messy grins and tousled hair. Sweat and makeup were often smeared across their pale, smug faces, with any number of dubious fluids added to the mix. With some pot occasionally thrown in to the mix, the time-killer was more than welcome on the long stretches of tour they were both on for months at a time, finding solace in the few, peaceful hours they could spend together whenever possible. They weren’t in love or anything like that – at least not with each other.

That’s another thing Bert was good for. Distraction.

Gerard Way was 5’9”, just over 200lbs, an alcoholic, and the most decent person on Earth. He would wake up sweaty, covered in his own grease and fluids, and his head ringing with the aftershock of whatever substance he’d been on; his nights, more often than not, ended the same way. Had he noticed Frank and Bert’s affair – and he was perhaps the only one who hadn’t, thus far – he wouldn’t have cared about it. Caring meant feeling, and feeling was something he liked to block out with white powder up his nose and alcohol in his throat. He didn’t have the time for the pain of heartache or betrayal, so he remained oblivious; perhaps by active choice.

“He’s gonna find out,” Mikey said one morning, gesturing vaguely to a McCracken-brand lovebite on Frank’s jaw. The guitarist rolled his eyes, dropping onto the sofa beside him. The tour van was cramped, but the conditions had been worse – and besides, they only had a couple more nights until their management had booked them into some cheap hotel. For now though, Frank had the potent smell of Mikey Way flood his lungs as the older man stared pointedly into his eyes.  
Frank gave him a lopsided, cocky grin.

“Mikey. He’s not going to find out. And besides, he-

“If you say he wouldn’t care, I’m going to hit you. You _know _he’d care. You’re his two favourite people in the whole world, of course he doesn’t want to know that you’ve been fucking behind his back,”

“Well, then, don’t tell him,” Frank sang, feeling far too pleased with himself to really be considering what Mikey was saying. The bassist opened his mouth to retort, but his face collapsed into a concerned frown, his eyes glancing just above Frank’s head.

“Hey, hey Gee,” he said softly, as if he were afraid he’d scare him away; an idea which wasn’t that far from the truth, Gerard was always very sensitive during the few waking hours he was sober. Frank heard a gentle sniffle from behind him, and felt pain shoot through his chest. That noise could break even the firmest of hearts.

“M-Mikey?” Gerard stammered, a lilt to his tone that made him sound absolutely terrified. The younger brother stood, discarding his conversation with Frank entirely. He moved to clasp his brother’s trembling hands, trying to ignore the stench of vomit and God knows what else was radiating off of him in putrid waves.

“Hey, it’s okay. Talk gentle, your head must hurt,” Mikey whispered. Gerard whimpered, a hand batting clumsily at his own pale cheeks, trying to wipe the tears that rolled down towards his downturned mouth.

“I-I don’t remember, what happened? I don-“ he sniffed hard “I don’ remember,” he stammered, teeth chattering with the effort of trying not to cry. As if on cue, Frank rose to his feet, turning the cheap coffee machine on and keeping his eyes carefully averted from Gerard. He hated seeing him like this the very most, and if he could avoid it, then he damn well wanted to for as long as he could.

Mikey guided Gerard down onto the sofa, combing his fingers through his matted hair

“You were with Bert, that’s all, honey. He took care of you,” he said softly. At the mention of his lover’s name, Frank’s ears perked up again, but he pretended to not hear over the faint whir of the machine beside him. Gerard sniffed

“I…I think I tried to b-blow him,” he admitted shakily, voice tinged with regret. Frank felt jealousy tear through him – although, not directed where he assumed it might be. He didn’t mind if Bert got blown by someone else; in fact, he was almost counting on it. Mikey frowned, stroking his hair back from his face.

“Did he let you?” he asked sternly. Frank poured the coffee into Gerard’s mug, hand unsteady as he approached the pair. He kept his eyes down, even as he thrust the cup into his best friend’s cold, trembling hands. He missed the look of love and gratitude Gerard shot him, but that was probably for the best; his heart very well may have melted if he’d seen it. Frank sat down beside Gerard, uselessly placing his hand on his back. He could feel the heat and sweat radiating from him, and felt his stomach clench with worry. He felt feverish, almost.

“No,” Gerard said slowly, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember the night before, “no, I think…he said no. He seemed sad and sort of…mad at me. Is Bert mad at me?” he whimpered. Frank swallowed hard, beginning to rub the other man’s back slowly.

“He’s not mad, baby,” he finally said. Gerard’s head turned, and he met his best friend with wide, hopeful eyes and – _oh. _He looked wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot and rubbed raw, his nose covered in dried blood, the skin around his nostrils cracked and sore. Frank’s heart plummeted as he knew it would, and he had the sudden urge to take the man into his arms; an urge he only just about managed to quell.

“You promise?” Gerard pressed, his tone trusting and very, very afraid. Frank nodded, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

“Yeah, hon. Finish up your coffee and I’ll help you shower, okay?” Frank said softly. Gerard blushed, but nodded, bringing the mug to his lips and drinking deeply – effectively ending the conversation.

Bathing Gerard wasn’t something anyone took real joy in – even Frank, who _adored _seeing the other man naked under any other circumstance. It was a chance to scrape the grime off of him, and have him looking almost human, at least until three when he’d start drinking again. The bus’ shower was little more than a hose braced onto a wall, but it was enough to help them get clean. Frank climbed into the shower first, reaching out to help his friend into the spray, allowing him to adjust to the steaming heat. Gerard whimpered in discomfort, looking so much like a lost puppy that it made Frank smile – even despite the circumstance.

“Shut up, you baby,” he chided lovingly, running a hand through Gerard’s hair. He grabbed the bottle of shampoo, emptying it into his own hand as he lathered it through the other man’s hair.

“You’re so nice to me, Frank,” he murmured, eyes closing. Frank laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead; this time, met with the sweet smell of strawberries instead of various, undefined odours.

“Hey, you’re my favourite. And just think – in a couple days, you’ll be able to have a nice, warm bath. That’ll feel good, huh?”

“You’ll come in with me?” Gerard asked shyly. Frank hesitated, grabbing a cloth and beginning to gently clean his friend’s face. He hummed thoughtfully.

“I think…I think we should wait and see,” he smiled softly, so it didn’t sound like a complete rejection. Frank didn’t mind helping Gerard shower, but sitting in a bath with him seemed too romantic – the prospect made his heart hurt. Gerard nodded, reaching out to touch Frank’s chest.

“You’re good to me,” he said firmly, “the best best friend I could ever have.”

Frank smiled tightly, passing the soap to Gerard

“C’mon. Clean yourself up,” he mumbled softly. He didn’t like to clean Gerard himself – the feeling of the man’s skin beneath his fingers set his heart off in ways he didn’t want to admit.

That night was violent. It was Frank’s back shoved against the wall, Bert’s hands tightly in his hair, it was Bert’s teeth and tongue and nails, and stains buried deep in his skin like purple bruises, and purple bruises that stained his skin.

“Beg for it,” Bert panted, holding Frank hard against the wall. Frank whimpered biting his lip hard, his body already on fire with need.

“_Yes._ Bert, please, give it to me. Give it to me however you want, fuck-“

He was cut off with a violent kiss, Bert’s teeth slamming hard against his lips.

*

The show had been almost too much for Frank to bear. Gerard had been getting progressively more drunk as the day went on, and by the time he stumbled onto the stage, he was absolutely giddy, practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Gee? Your nose.” Frank said softly, gesturing to a dusting of white just above his lip. Gerard flashed him a smile, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Thanks, honey,” he said warmly, squeezing his hand hard. Knowing Gerard was on coke just made the whole thing harder when he started _testing _Frank. Gerard had come behind him at one point, pressing his crotch against Frank’s ass as the shorter man played, his hand finding Frank’s hip and binding him close. His voice was breathy as he sang, his body trembling with electricity. Gerard leaned forward, nipping Frank’s ear before heading across the stage, not pausing for a beat. Frank took a deep, shaky breath, trying not to miss a chord.

In fact, the only time Frank _had _missed his cue was when he’d happened to glance up during one of Ray’s solos, and seen Gerard gazing at him hungrily, teeth caught on his lower lip. He looked like he wanted to devour him, to own him – Frank missed the beginning of the chorus, and heard Gerard laugh out his next lyrics in return.

*

“_Bert,” _please. Honey, come on. I need it, I need you, I-“ He whimpered. Bert mouthed eagerly at his neck, reaching down to unbuckle Frank’s pants, his hand slipping inside immediately to grasp at the growing bulge

“You’re so hard, Frankie, you want me so bad,” he panted. He glanced up at him, though, almost as if breaking character, giving him a knowing grin. They both knew who it was Frank wanted. Frank ignored the look, nodding eagerly.

“I do. I want you, baby, fuck. Please fuck me,” he gasped. Bert moaned, pressing his face into Frank’s neck as he groped him, his free hand moving his lover’s jeans down, followed soon by his boxers. Bert grinned his signature, manic grin.

“Sofa,” he panted, grabbing Frank’s shirt by the collar and dragging him along, eyes lust-blown and hungry.

Frank kicked off his jeans and boxers, laying down on the sofa and staring eagerly up at Bert, his hand immediately dropping between his own legs to rub at his hole. Bert pushed his own pants down, arching an eyebrow

“You looked prepped,” he breathed, pulling out his cock and stroking himself slowly. Frank nodded, slipping three fingers into himself to demonstrate just how damn _ready _he was.

“I had to. I had to, I knew I’d want you after-

“Yeah, I saw,” Bert murmured understandingly, smiling softly.

Neither of the pair had ever said out loud that they were both in love with Gerard, but they didn’t have to. They knew what their situation was, and they were happy to try to fuck away the infatuation until it stopped hurting.

Frank sighed, eyes closing, hips pushing up against his own fingers.

“Please, baby. Fill me up,” he whispered. Bert nodded, but didn’t start towards him. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment as he gazed down at him

“I will baby, I swear. But first… first, can you suck my cock?’  


*

“Woah, woah. Easy, baby,” Bert murmured, holding Gerard’s hair back as the man threw up into the toilet, his hands gripping the bowl

“I’m sorry, Bert, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered between retches. Bert nodded understandingly, stroking through the thick strands

“It’s okay, you just did too much too fast. It’s alright,” he breathed. He blew gently on his friend’s neck, smiling when Gerard seemed to relax under the cool air.

Eventually, the older man rolled away from the seat, leaning up against the wall with his knees tucked under his chin. Bert flushed the toilet for him, before sitting back, a hand in Gerard’s hair

“Baby,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. Gerard trembled from under his fingers, and Bert heard the unmistakable whine as he began to cry. Bert just sighed, leaning his head against the wall.

“It’s okay. You’re trying, baby. You’re trying,” he whispered, squeezing his hand. Gerard wiped a hand over his face, sitting back

“I d-don’t get it. Why am I so bad, but you’re okay? Why can’t I just…be okay and be high?” he stammered, lips trembling. Bert gave a soft, sad laugh. He moved his hand down to rub the other man’s back.

“Because I gotta take care of you,” he said simply. It was said lightheartedly, but it wasn’t far from the truth. Bert struggled almost as much as Gerard did with his addiction; he just had more of a head for drugs, and babysitting Gerard was quite sobering.

Gerard let out a gentle whine, eyes widening

“I’m sorry, Bert. I’m so sorry. I…I don’t-“ he looked like he might cry again, and Bert felt his heart break.

“Babe, c’mon. It’s okay, don’t be sad. I love you so much. Don’t be sad,” he whispered, pressing kisses to his cheekbones. He wanted, desperately, to press a kiss against the man’s lax, swollen lips – but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not only would it be unfair to Gerard, but Frank would kill him.

Gerard, though, seemed determined to push the other man to his very limits. He nuzzled into his neck for a moment, before gently pressing kisses to his skin, teeth grazing the pale gently. Bert couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped from his lips, and Gerard beamed proudly

“Gee- oh, Gee – we can’t-“ he whispered, even as his hand moved to the small of Gerard’s back. Gerard chuckled darkly, sucking eagerly on his earlobe, before moving to press kisses up his cheek.

“We can,” he breathed, his lips falling to the corner of Bert’s mouth. The younger man let out a heavy breath, feeling his cock stir in his pants.

“Not now, Gerard. Please – when you’re sober we can talk but – _oh_”

Gerard had slipped his hand over Bert’s crotch, rubbing over him eagerly.

“Oh, you’re so hard, Bert. Baby. I’ve missed your cock so bad. You never give it to me anymore,” he whimpered. That was one thing Bert had never told Frank – before he knew better, Bert and Gerard had shared each other’s bodies more times than he could remember. When they first met, they were drunken blowjobs, and Bert fucking Gerard so hard he couldn’t see straight. They were Gerard masturbating loudly in The Used’s tour bus until Bert burst through the door to finger him until his legs went weak. But that wasn’t them anymore. Now they were vomit, and gentle words, fingers in hair. They were Bert being so in love with Gerard that he couldn’t think, and Gerard being so high that he didn’t care.

“I’m not gonna fuck you, Gerard.” Bert said sternly – pleased and surprised in equal measure with how firm his voice sounded. He rose to his feet – realizing his mistake almost instantly. As soon as he was able to, Gerard sat up on his knees, rubbing his face against Bert’s crotch, feeling his hard cock jut against his cheekbones.

“You want me so bad, Bert,” he panted hungrily, “I’ll let you cum wherever you want. You can cum on my face, or in my hair…just give it to me-“ he whispered, slowly bringing his lips up to mouth at Bert’s bulge. The other man let out a sharp hiss, hand moving to Gerard’s hair. He could feel the singer’s experienced lips against him and, for a moment, felt like he was going to break. He wanted to grab Gerard’s hair, to fuck his throat so hard he’d be coughing out his lyrics the next night. He wanted to cum all over his face and _claim _him.

He let his hand curl harder in Gerard’s hair, heart swelling at the excited mewl the other man gave. He tugged hard, pulling Gerard’s face away from him.

“No,” he said sharply. His eyes were cold, and sad, and this time, Gerard knew he meant it. The vocalist sat back on his knees, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’m sorry…I-“ he sniffed, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Bert softened, kneeling down beside him. He took a breath, before gently pressing a kiss to Gerard’s mouth. It was swift, no more than soft brushing of their lips, but it was enough to send his own heart into overdrive.

“Lemme take you back to your bus, baby. Frank can take care of you there.” He whispered. Gerard wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t want Frank. I want you,” he whined. Bert gave a short laugh as he helped Gerard to his feet, but didn’t comment on his statement.

That was another thing Bert had no intention of breaking to Frank.  


*

Frank shot Bert a pitying look, but crawled towards him regardless, cock hanging heavily between his legs.

“Yeah, baby. Yeah, I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever is gonna make you feel good, babe,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against Bert’s crotch. The other man keened, biting down hard on his lip. He closed his eyes, only a little ashamed as he allowed himself to picture Gerard. He focused on the way the singer’s mouth would feel on him, imagined it was his long, nimble fingers working his button open. He bit his lip hard, head falling back

“Oh, babe,” he whispered, stroking through Frank’s hair as the other man pushed his pants down, beginning to suck eagerly at him through his boxers. Frank glanced up and saw Bert’s eyes shut, feeling a wave of relief run through him. He wouldn’t feel guilty, then, for the way his own eyes fluttered closed, and he allowed himself to imagine that the hips in front of him weren’t sharp and angled, but curved and soft, and smelling like sweat and the musky scent of the deodorant Gerard sprayed over himself haphazardly. In that moment, there was no Bert, no Frank. There were no gasps of pleasure, or moans of delight. The room shone only with the pure light of the man they both loved, both worshipped. He existed in every drip of saliva that fell from Frank’s lips, in every bead of sweat Bert brushed away with the back of his hand. He was the pleasure in Bert’s stomach, the longing in Frank’s thighs. He was the air they were breathing, and the thick cigarette smoke that choked them.

Frank pulled off after a moment, lips popping as he slid Bert out of his mouth.

“Don’t cum. I still want you in me,” he whispered, voice a little hoarse now from exertion. Bert nodded, not entirely even able to speak. He carded his hand adoringly through Frank’s hair as he gazed down at him.

“You’re good at that. Blowin’ me. It’s your second best skill, I bet,” he hummed. Frank rolled his eyes, reaching past him to grab one of the weed-infused cookies that had been left by the rest of Bert’s band.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t do much. You’re…dominating,” he mumbled, using his cookie as a distraction from the blush that sprung to his cheeks. Despite his infatuation with Gerard, Frank did really like Bert. The other man was pretty, and if he wasn’t so in love with the lead singer of his own band, Frank could see himself letting Bert ruin his life.

Bert’s coarse laugh made Frank look up despite his embarrassment, offering a shy grin to the man above him. Bert had begun stroking himself again, pressing his lips together hard as he watched Frank. When their eyes met, Bert’s face pulled back into its wide grin.

“C’mon. I need to get you back to your bus before-“ he paused, taking his turn to avert his eyes. He didn’t want to mention that Gerard would, inevitably, wake up scared from his drug-infused nightmares, and need someone there to hold him. He didn’t want to say that he might be doing that right now, and that Frank was missing him. He didn’t want to say those things, and he didn’t have to: Frank already knew.

“Yeah, you’re right,” the guitarist mumbled, closing his eyes. The cookie wouldn’t begin to affect him for a while, but it would help him sleep. He rose to his feet and kissed Bert – although, a little less enthusiastically now. Being reminded of Gerard, ironically, was sometimes a bit of a boner killer.

“You still want it?” Bert asked softy, rubbing a hand soothingly along Frank’s back. Frank smiled, half turning to smile at him.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I do. I didn’t come all this way just to blow you,” he teased. He gave Bert a serious look, though, pressing a reassuring kiss to his mouth, “I want you. Honest,” he murmured.

Bert smiled, pulling him in for a firm kiss. He stroked Frank’s cheek, sighing gently.

“I do really like you. Y’know that, right? I really like you,” he said softly – his words seemed pointed, like he was convincing himself just as much as he was Frank. The latter smiled, returning the kiss easily.

“C’mon. I don’t have a lot of time. Do me,” he hummed, turning around in Bert’s arms, pressing his ass against his crotch. Bert laughed, rubbing himself against him

“Geez. Definitely gonna have to get you to give me a lapdance sometime, sweetheart,” Bert breathed, pushing him down so Frank was leaning over the sofa, ass up in the air.

“Oh, baby. You look so good like that, I-

“_Jesus, _Bert. Cut the soliloquy and just _do me_,” Frank gasped. Bert laughed, but grabbed a condom from the windowsill – much to Frank’s constant dismay – sliding it onto himself as he lined up

“I do want you, though,” the singer murmured, mainly to tease Frank. The shorter man opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off as Bert rocked his hips suddenly forward into him. He didn’t go all the way in, but enough to make Frank let out a soft squeal, lips pressing together as Bert began to rock into him.

“Ah, fuck,” Bert hissed, hips slamming forward, his hand automatically finding Frank’s hair. Frank moaned deeply, rubbing his cock against the edge of the sofa as he was thrust into it

“C’mon Bert. Give it to me, babe. Give it to me, oh fuck-“ he panted desperately, lips falling open. Bert smirked, digging his nails into his hips

“Always love how tight you are for me, Frankie. You’re _such _a bottom,” he teased. Frank didn’t reply – both because he didn’t have an argument, and because the pleasure coursing through him left him a little unable to fathom words.

Fucking was important for both of their sanities. They both knew it, even if it was unfocused. Bert found solace in the white of Frank’s thighs, in the tightness around his cock, in his name dripping lustfully from the metal-laced lips. Frank let Bert pound into him, the pleasurable pain shoving the unbearable agony out of his mind, his heartache stilling for a few moments while he was wrapped in the wrong pair of arms. They thought, silently, that perhaps they should just admit defeat and fall in love with each other – but Gerard was a comet heading straight for their atmosphere, and he could take either of them out without a second thought. Gerard was a suture holding together a gunshot wound, but neither Bert nor Frank were complaining about the dollar store band-aid they found in each other. Even if only for a moment, it stopped the bleeding, and made them feel safe.

Bert’s condom hit the trash can with a wet thud, making Frank wrinkle his nose as he pulled his jeans back up. He wished he’d brought a spare pair of underwear – his always ended up soaked.

“Same time tomorrow?” Bert asked, shooting him a lazy grin as he leaned against the wall, cigarette hanging from his lips. Frank nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling his shirt over his head.

“You bet. But the night after that we’re in the hotel, and I wanted to-“ he cut himself off. Bert didn’t need to hear that Frank was hoping to share a big, double bed with Gerard, and hold him as he fell asleep. The singer gave him an appreciative look, nodding slowly

“No worries. Just come by whenever you next wanna fool around then,” he hummed. Frank made to move past him, but Bert caught his arm, pulling him into a deep, almost loving kiss. When Frank pulled back, his head was spinning, a dopey grin on his lips. Bert barked a laugh, sucking hard on his cigarette.

“Y’know. Just in case you kiss…someone else before I see you,” he murmured.

Frank knew what he meant. He didn’t even question it.


End file.
